


Two Immortals in a Bar, Five Feet Apart Because they're Not Gay

by minazukihatta



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: And fed up with Ardyn, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, In which Cor is an actual Immortal, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 15:19:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16558229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minazukihatta/pseuds/minazukihatta
Summary: In which Cor is an actual Immortal and meets Ardyn in a bar





	Two Immortals in a Bar, Five Feet Apart Because they're Not Gay

**Author's Note:**

> So Cor and Ardyn aren't really a thing but they do meet up over the centuries and during some of those meetings, they have sex. So if anything, Ardyn's more the annoying on-and-off flame to Cor. To Ardyn, Cor is a curiosity.

“Well, hello there, dear heart.”

 

Cor doesn’t even hide his distaste nor the groan that rumbles from his throat as he turns back to Ardyn--fucking Ardyn who hasn’t aged in 100 years--, still dressed in his derelict couture and ever present smug smirk plastered on his lips. Cor fixes sharp eyes on him, the tips of his lips curling into a frown and takes a measured sip from his beer. 

 

The small bundle gathered at his chest chirps and Cor takes his gaze off Ardyn--guy’s an Immortal, has all time in the world--to focus on the baby. Cor isn’t sure what the kid wants. There’s no tell-tale foul smell. So either the baby is being fussy or wants attention. Cor readjusts the baby on the sling, patting him soothingly on the back.

 

Ardyn slides onto the bar stool next to Cor, putting his weight on the bar counter and watching Cor in bemusement. Cor is not going to hear the end of this for the next  _ millennia. _ Oh, well, nothing a severe blow to the head can’t fix. 

 

“You’ve been quite busy these past years,” Ardyn drawls. “I thought you were content staying the wandering warrior, slaying daemons and aiding hapless mortals. Imagine my surprise when I find out the Marshall of Lucis bears the apt name of the  _ Immortal _ .”

 

“You must have been utterly shocked,” Cor says flatly, still patting the baby. 

 

“Actually, I was a little put out. I’ve invited you, time and time again, to join me at my side. And I find out some little king, who as well be a toddler compared to us, manages to make you a member of his army.”

 

Cor sighs. “Ardyn, I told you. I’m not going to have fun watching the world burn.”

 

“Oh, come on. Not even a little?”

 

“No.”

 

Ardyn whines. His eyes flicker to the bundle near Cor’s heart. “What are you doing with a baby?”

 

“Gee,  _ Chancellor _ , why don’t you tell me what the fuck Niffleheim is doing with clone babies?”

 

“Turning them into MTs,” Ardyn replies, as if Cor is oblivious. “Don’t you hear? Flesh and blood is so inefficient. Nuts and bolts is the way of the future.”

 

“You used to be a  _ healer _ ,” Cor snaps. “How can you turn your back on your vows and let these kids be hurt?”

 

“You know  _ how _ , dear heart,” Ardyn hisses. And Cor did. Immortality was a curse. Life, in Ardyn’s eyes, had become meaningless. Eventually, it was easier to stop caring. 

 

Cor tried that. Once. Managed to stick a good year until he fell into a troupe of hunters that drew him back to the light from the shadows he casted over himself. 

 

The baby cries, sensing the hostility in the air. The wail is painfully obvious in the quiet air of the bar, overpowering the tinny melody of the jukebox and the murmur of other patrons. “Dammit,” Cor mutters. “There, there …” 

 

“This must take you back three hundred years when you had that child,” Ardyn says in mirth. “What was their name? Stella? Sol? Wait, no,  _ Soleil _ . Pity the child died so young. Only thirteen, I think?”

 

“Ardyn,” Cor hisses through the tightness in his chest. “ _ Shut up _ .”

 

Cor pushes himself off the stool, heading towards the room he’s rented upstairs. Ardyn follows him, much to Cor’s displeasure, hand on the small of his back. Cor would shove the man away, but his hands are a little  _ busy _ , and if he shot out with a kick, the resulting kick would heightened the baby’s cries. 

 

“Aw, did I touch a nerve?”

 

“Ardyn, stop talking about my dead daughter before I _ make you _ .”

 

“You know, the baby does share some semblance with Soleil. Blonde hair, bright blue eyes. If memory serves me right, Soleil hails from the same territory as the babe.” 

 

Screw it. Cor presses a soft kiss to the baby’s head before pulling the gun he lifted from a base and aims it straight between Ardyn’s eyes. “I told you to stop talking about Soleil.”

 

The blood seeping from Ardyn’s head is somewhat worth the baby’s screeching cries and the ensuing panic in the bar. 

**Author's Note:**

> Dude, Cor told you to stop talking about his dead kid. Also, the baby is Prompto, if y'all need to know.


End file.
